The Druid in Caelon
by deltaepsilon004
Summary: Merlin is caught by a beautiful young "druid" desperate for the aid of Emrys in avenging the destruction of her tribe, and Arthur is determined to hunt down his friend, no matter what the cost. Is the seemingly innocent girl all that she seems? And what is Caelon? My first attempt at a story, so kindness is appreciated.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: Hola, mi amigos, hopefully! This is my first story, so please give me a chance, just kind of getting used to things on here.**

**I do not own Merlin. Shame though, because it wouldn't be ending if I did.**

He threw another glance behind him as he raced through the woods. He'd lost sight of Arthur now, the only figures he saw were the bandits, clad in black from head to toe. With a groan, Merlin muttered a word and his eyes blazed brilliant gold for a second, and a thick tree branch came crashing down in the path of the bandits.

Merlin turned his gaze back to the path ahead, clumsily attempting to leap over a tree trunk at the last minute and tumbling to the ground. He lay there for a few seconds winded, but a shout brought him back to his feet and set him running again.

"Sceaotan lange!"

The spell sent him hurtling off the path and through the undergrowth, leaves and vines whipping at his face and arms. Merlin finally rolled to a stop and clambered to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his ankle, but there was no time to lose. He took a few steps, gingerly testing if he could run, and began to limp as fast as he could through the forest. He didn't know where he was now, and he looked behind him again. The bandits were closing in, and fast. Merlin looked back in front and skidded to a halt only inches away from the edge of a great ravine.

"Great."

Merlin whirled around to face the oncoming tide of bandits. "Crincgan forheard!" he shouted, his blue eyes flashing gold as a group of bandits was hurled back into the forest. But it was no use. Merlin could feel despair welling up in his heart, and he raised his hands in a feeble attempt at a threat.

A young girl with auburn hair and green eyes emerged from the black ranks of the bandits, and she walked forward, her head held high. "Stop this now, Emrys," she commanded softly, her voice brimming with power.

Merlin shook his head firmly. "Abeatan!" he whispered under his breath, and the blue in his eyes was lost to gold, but with a few muttered words the spell rebounded off of the girl, shooting back towards Merlin.

It struck him full on in the chest, and he went flying over the side of the ravine, plummeting down into its shadowy depths. Lying among the decaying leaves, Merlin gazed up at the sky through the canopy of leaves towering over his head, trying to ignore the fiery pain racing through his body, permeating every corner of his body and forcing its way into the deepest corners of his mind. His vision swirled and dipped, and a hazy red was slowly creeping in on his eyes.

"Haelian binnan bancofa ac banhuses weard." Merlin slowly turned his pounding head to the side and saw the girl there, kneeling beside him. Her eyes shone with a fierce gold and to Merlin, it seemed like she was glowing, an angel to take him away. She was the last he saw as darkness finally swallowed him.

**A/N: Hey everyone! So if you made it here, I'm proud of you! Thanks for reading, and reviews are always most appreciated. They will make me very happy. **


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so yeah. Hello, thanks if you're reading this, and I promise that it will get better and more exciting and stuff and Arthur will come in in the next chapter! The next chapter will be an Arthur chapter! Yay!**

**I still don't own Merlin. Dang…**

Merlin groaned, clutching his head and blinking furiously in a fruitless attempt to clear his swimming vision. He slowly forced himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain spiking up his back and his arms. He looked around, trying to make out something in the dark room. There was nothing but the slow drip of water. Wincing, Merlin held out his hand. "_Leoht_," he whispered, and a brilliant white light illuminated the room.

It was a small, cramped room, with mossy stone walls and a low ceiling. The source of the water was a tiny fountain with a statue of a young woman in the corner, nearly dry with just the occasional plink! of the water falling down to splash on the carved gray stone. He was on a soft green mat, and covered in bandages.

With a gasp, Merlin fell back, fighting to breathe as his lungs clenched up. He couldn't breathe, and fire was racing up and down his body, spreading out its hellish tentacles and infecting him. The last of the light fizzled out, leaving the young warlock alone, fighting a losing battle for his life as his strength failed him. A wave of crushing darkness washed over him, and Merlin fell back into unconsciousness, his chest heaving as he struggled to get air into his protesting lungs.

Suddenly the wall cracked open, sparks flying as it separated, forced into an entryway. The young girl strode through the ruins of the wall, her palms tingling with the euphoric rush of magic and a small bag slung over her shoulder.. "_Leoht_ _fulbeorht_," she intoned fiercely, and four spheres of pale green light sparked into existence. "_W__æter_," she added, and the little carved fountain burst into life. "Oh, Emrys. What have you gotten yourself into?"

She kneeled next to him, feeling his brow and opening the bag. Her eyes darkened and she placed her palm on his chest. "_Adl_ _swindan, licsar_ _halian_," she muttered, her green eyes glowing golden. "_W__æter cuman_."

With a wave of her hand, a stream of water arced over, settling itself in a unearthly pool in the air. She drew out a small rag from the bag and dipped it in the water, wringing it out gently with her pale, slender hands. "Hush, Merlin," she soothed, placing the damp cloth on his feverish forehead. "_Colian_." Her green eyes flashed gold and Merlin let out a slow, deep breath.

The girl sat by him for a long time, watching the warlock with sad eyes. She sighed, her effortless, ethereal confidence crumbling under the green light. The years seemed to pile on, her face growing dark with worry and stress, and her eyes grew dim with grief. Time passed slowly, the stifling silence broken only by the steady rush of the fountain.

Merlin stirred, shifting in his slumber. "_Colian miclum,_" she whispered. "Be still."

Merlin fell in and out of unconsciousness, his mind an addled maze of desperate nightmares and pain-filled fog. A fire burned brightly in the depths of his mind, keeping him afloat and sane, but a horrid, soul-sucking wave of agony kept encroaching, attempting to extinguish that tiny spark of hope. It picked up his broken body and brought it crashing down, forcing him to keep falling and falling, down and down, forever.

But suddenly he wasn't.

There was light everywhere, a great light that held him in the air, safe and warm. Merlin looked around, but there was no one, nothing to be seen around. Just him and the nothingness beyond.

And a voice. A soft voice, calling him from these darkest depths, from this little bubble deep in the recesses of his pain-crazed mind. "Emrys," it whispered, soft and beguiling. "Emrys, come back to me."

Suddenly he was falling again, but not falling into despair. Falling into…

Merlin's blue eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright. He turned to the side, almost afraid to see who it was.

"You!"

**A/N: Huge thankees for reading! You're awesome! As always, reviews, both complimentary and constructively critical are incredibly welcome and most sincerely appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2! Arthur Pendragon to the rescue! Or is he? I do realize that these chapters are pretty short, and I apologize for that. I'll work on it, but for now… Let's get going!**

**One thing: Still don't own Merlin. And that makes me sad.**

No one spoke the whole ride back to Camelot. Everyone could feel the dark cloud of misery hanging over their brooding king, and no one dared interrupt him. There hadn't been many knights in the hunting party, only Gwaine, Percival and Elyan along with Arthur. They had been ambushed almost immediately upon entering the forest, and they had been separated in the ensuing chaos.

It was a shock that Merlin was the only one who had been taken.

Arthur's mind was swirling with agitation and anger. That bloody idiot! Why did he always have to go and act brave? And now he'd been kidnapped by a horde of bloodthirsty bandits. Arthur's grip on the reins tightened, and he took a breath to calm himself.

It was almost like he actually felt scared for the poor clumsy oaf. After all, Merlin had been there through almost everything, and although Arthur would never admit it, Merlin was the best friend he had, more than any of the knights. Despite his incompetence, stupidity, laziness, clumsiness and all-around uselessness, the fact that Merlin had been kidnapped had Arthur nearly boiling over with anxiety.

"Sire?"

Elyan's voice jolted Arthur out of his thoughts. "Sire, it's getting dark. We should probably set up camp for the night. There's still a ways to go to get to Camelot."

Arthur gave Elyan a long look but nodded. "Good. You get started on that," he agreed absentmindedly. "I need to take a walk." His gaze hardened and he dismounted, stalking off into the surrounding forest.

Elyan looked back at Percival, who shrugged.

To all, it seemed as if the despondent king moved in a stifling haze of misery as he left his knights behind. To Arthur himself, where he was going barely registered. His mind was overcome with exasperation, anger, frustration, and most of all, fear. What would happen if he _couldn't_ get Merlin back? Arthur abruptly brushed the thought away and stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. It had been a long hard day, and with the adrenaline draining from his system, Arthur suddenly felt more tired than he'd ever felt before.

On a normal day, Merlin would have been there, with his goofy smile and his abnormally large ears and his sarcastic, impudent comments. On a normal day, they would both be laughing, running high on the thrill of the chase and the exhilaration of the escape. But this was not a normal day.

The more Arthur thought about it, the more he started to convince himself him that Merlin was dead, slaughtered by the bandits. After all, they had no idea who he was. And why would they? He was a nobody, just a servant, albeit to the king of Camelot. Arthur stopped in his tracks, his blood chilling at that thought. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head fiercely, as if that would banish the depressing thoughts.

"Sire!"

Gwaine's shout startled Arthur out of his contemplations, and Arthur whirled around, every muscle tensed. Gwaine appeared through the silhouettes of the trees, jogging towards Arthur. "Sire, you should come back," he advised. "There could still be bandits about."

Arthur shook his head. "No." His eyes blazed with a terrifying fire, and to Gwaine he looked almost crazed, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Okay then," Gwaine said, back away with his hands raised. He stumbled back away from the king.

Arthur looked back out through the trees, out into the growing cavernous shadows that loomed over the forest, and suddenly over his life. Despite his many, many faults, Merlin had always been there for him. And Arthur would be there for him, he promised himself. He would not rest until Merlin had been found.

**A/N: So everyone, thanks for reading once more! I apologize if Arthur seems a bit OOC, but in my defense, he is distraught. Not in my defense, I'm considerably less comfortable with writing from Arthur's POV than Merlin's, but whatever. You never learn if you don't try. As always, reviews are love. **


	4. Chapter 3

**Hola, once more, if you've decided to join me in another chapter concerning a young druid in Caelon. I assure you, we're back to Merlin (I'm planning on attempting to alternate), and much will be revealed about, you know, his situation…**

**Much thankees to everyone who has read, followed, liked and stuff. Shoutouts at the end because you guys are amazing! Aaaaaaand so with no further ado, let's get started!**

**Oh wait… I still don't own Merlin! Thought I should mention that.**

"You!"

Merlin stared at the girl. She stared at him. Merlin searched, but he couldn't find the means to express the rush of emotions flooding his mind at the moment.

"You," he repeated, considerably softer and with a general air of defeat. "What do you want?" Merlin slumped back onto the mat, trying desperately to remain conscious. Already there was a dull, growing ache stabbing him in the head right behind his eyes, and his back felt like it had been set on fire. Just attempting to move sent tendrils of icy pain spiraling down his legs and back up his spine.

The girl watched him with wide eyes for a moment. "Rest, Emrys," she said gently. "_Beon butan nied_."

Merlin's face split into a goofy grin as the pain rushed away, leaving him on a euphoric cloud of bliss. He pushed himself slowly into a sitting position and turned to look at the girl properly for the first time since they had encountered each other in the forest.

In a word, she was gorgeous. Long auburn hair fell loosely around her slender shoulders, framing a pale face with high cheekbones, a soft mouth and strikingly green eyes. Even sitting on the ground, she seemed to hold herself with a grace and poise that made you want to listen to her, and she had a certain aura of almost intimidating confidence that was countered only slightly by the intoxicating laughter hidden in her eyes. She wore a long green dress the color of her eyes, with loose sleeves and a thin silver belt around her waist. On her head, glistening brightly among the reddish curls, was a wrought silver circlet, delicately sculpted and fit for a queen.

Merlin's breath caught in his throat as he tried to speak, struggling to find words lovely enough for such a beautiful creature, but no poetic inspiration came. "Who are you?" he finally rasped, entranced by the depths of compassion in her eyes.

"My name is Ilythien. This is my home," she said softly. Even her voice was beautiful. It flowed with a soft, musical lilt, like a gentle brook and the song of a bird. "I have been tending to your wounds and your sickness. You are very ill, Emrys. You fell so far, and were injured badly, and as you slept I fear infection snuck in. You have been near death for quite some time."

He frowned at this. "But I feel fine! Alright, I'm a little sore, but I don't feel sick, and…" Merlin paused, looking for the right way to say this to Ilythien. Ilythien. Even her name was beautiful. "I appreciate everything, but there's a prat somewhere out there who needs, well, me, and I have to get back to him." His gaze dropped, as if he was ashamed of letting her down.

And sure enough, her gaze fell. "Please, Emrys, you cannot leave me! I need your help. I am all that remains of my people, and they cannot receive the release they deserve until they have been avenged. Emrys, you must not leave. Only you can save us," she pleaded, her eyes full of desperation and fear.

Merlin paused, his heart racing. On one hand, Arthur needed him. He had no idea what had happened to the king, or any of the knights. But then again… Here was this beautiful, helpless girl, asking for his help in putting the souls of her dead people to rest. Merlin pushed the thoughts of Arthur Pendragon and his duty to Camelot out of his head. "Of course I'll help you," he reassured. "Who were your people?"

Ilythien looked away. "They lived here a long time ago, when the Old Religion still blossomed freely in Albion. We were worshipped by all, beings of great power and magic, untouched by the curses of time and aging. We were the Caelonites, and this was our home, a great citadel of magic and generosity. Caelon."

She turned back to look at Merlin, her eyes suddenly seemingly boring into his soul with their intensity. When she next spoke, her voice was twisted with grief and hatred. "But the time of men came quickly, and suddenly we were animals, to be hunted for sport. All of our knowledge and wisdom, once revered, fell to nothingness, and one by one we all perished at the hand of men. One man in particular. I trust you know of whom I speak."

"Uther Pendragon," Merlin spat, overcome by a strange desire to protect Ilythien. "Why could he not just leave you be?"

Ilythien nodded sagely, her face shadowed and her expression unreasonable, but her anger was evident in her shaking voice. "I watched as he slaughtered my parents, and then I was the last. I was the last of a race so powerful that we could have ripped these lands apart, but Uther had achieved his goal. He believed he had disposed of one of the most dangerous sources of magic in the world, and I left Caelon. I traveled to the Forest of Ascetir, seeking those similarly burdened with knowledge of the Old Religion, and the druids took me in. I became one of them, until…"

She paused, a single, shining tear winding its way down her face. She wiped it away with a slender finger and closed her eyes for a second before continuing. "He- He came with men, so many men, and… And…"

Merlin reached forward and pulled Ilythien into a hug, holding her close to him. "It's okay," he whispered soothingly. "Nothing will hurt you now. I won't let anything hurt you."

Ilythien looked up at Merlin with a small, sad smile. She wiped away another tear. "Thank you, Emrys. You're so kind." The girl took a deep breath. "The- They were all murdered. Every last one of my new family. I had no place to go, no one to turn to, so I returned to Caelon, to try to put the souls of the people I had so cruelly abandoned to rest. And then I caught word of you, Emrys. The greatest sorcerer whoever lived."

Her face glowed as she praised his power. "I knew you could help me. I knew you would. You have the thanks of all my people, Emrys."

Merlin smiled. "It's nothing."

Ilythien smiled back, and her eyes flashed gold. "Sleep, Emrys. _Colian miclum_." The young warlock collapsed back on the mat, and Ilythien watched him, the kind, beautiful aura vanished like a wisp of smoke on a windy day. Her green eyes were cold, and her face twisted into a sneer.

"Indeed, you have my thanks, Emrys," she smirked. "For more than you know."

**A/N: Hmmm… What happens next? What exactly is Ilythien grateful for? We'll all find out hopefully soon, me included. And, as I promised, shoutouts, because you make me happy.**

**Muchos gracias to CoolBeans100, Black Iron, caldera32, Sheila90 and amelie118 for following, Sherila90 and Death Knight of Camelot and Said the Liar 13 for reviewing! You guys are so awesome!**

**Until next time, farewell!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alright, my lovelies, back to King Arthur! So how's he going to manage without his little idiot? Not serious about that part, of course. Let's all find out, shall we?**

**By the way, I thought I'd clear a few things up. This fic has no set time period; it's a bit more of an AU where only a few things are slightly changed. Arthur is king and there's the Round Table and everything, but Morgana's not crazy! Yay! I like Morgana. She also knows about Merlin's little secret, but Arthur doesn't.**

**Still don't own Merlin.**

Arthur let out an indignant grumble as sunlight flooded his dimly lit room. "Merlin," he groaned, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face in his fluffy pillow. Something clicked in his mind. "Merlin!" he exclaimed excitedly, pushing himself into a sitting position.

But it wasn't Merlin. Arthur stared at the man and sank back into his bed. It was George. "Where's Merlin?" he demanded. George. Why did it always have to be George? The man was just too damn effective. Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wracking his brain for where his manservant was. Then it hit him. Arthur's blue eyes flew open, and he leaped out of bed.

"Sire!" George called as he yanked the door open and raced down the hall. "Sire, you're not even dressed!" He watched the king disappear down the hall with sad eyes. How come King Arthur never seemed to like him?

Five minutes later, Arthur was back, sprinting through the endless twisting halls and stairwells of Camelot, and this time with a shirt and boots on. Nothing mattered. The shouts and cries of the people crowding the halls were no more than nuisance. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, menacing and ominous, like a countdown to the worst. The thud of his boots on the cold stone floors resonated, each step shaking him to the core. His muscles were tense with a horrid, gripping fear that threatened to consume him as he grew closer and closer to his destination, and as he felt he grew farther and farther from where he truly wanted to be.

Finally he burst into the council room, the heavy wooden doors slamming shut behind him. The Round Table was unoccupied, and Arthur broke down. Every pent-up feeling and frustration threatened the walls of his fragile mind, and he fell to his knees. It took everything in him not to scream or kill something or just sit there and cry. The ferocity of his grief took Arthur by surprise, as well as the overpowering, soul-sucking pit of regret that seemed to grow deeper and deeper in his mind with every thought of his lost servant. No, his lost friend.

Time seemed to stand still as Arthur knelt there on the hard floor. If it had been anyone else he wouldn't have lost it. Not even if it had been Guinevere. For all this time he had forced back half-formed thoughts of gratitude and unsure expressions of affection, feeling sure in the knowledge that he would never have to deal with the consequences of his truest and most loyal friend never knowing just how much he Arthur needed him.

He sank back into the thoughts of two nights ago, the dreadful night that Merlin had been captured. Arthur had stalked back to the campsite Percival and Elyan had set up with a vengeance, like a man out to kill. Which, to be honest, was true. Not only had Merlin been kidnapped, they had suffered a humiliating defeat and a frankly terrifying, albeit short-lived chase. Percival and Elyan sat around a small fire, their shoulders slumped in exhaustion and despair. They both looked warily at their king, unsure of just how he was feeling with the abduction of one of his most faithful friends.

Arthur hadn't slept that night. He had sat brooding, his mind blank and his eyes dark with worry. None of the knights had been able to convince him to eat anything either. Arthur didn't even want to think of eating. One thought occupied his mind: he had to get Merlin back. First of all, the kid wouldn't last a day as a prisoner of the bandits who had rescued them. And second, there was already a dreadful, aching hole in his heart where the annoying, sarcastic, impudent servant had once been.

It was the opening of the doors that finally jolted the king from his miserable reverie. Arthur looked over his shoulder, hastily wiping away a previously unnoticed tear. It was Morgana. She stood in the open doorway dressed in an elegant, flowy gown of purple silk with silver embroidery and her lustrous black hair tumbling down over her shoulders. Her face wore an expression of concern, sympathy and hidden undertones of a devastating anger.

She swept into the room like sunshine on a rainy day, the doors closing behind her. "Arthur," she murmured, kneeling down beside him as her foster brother looked away. "Arthur, look at me." Her voice was stronger the second time, more assertive and commanding. "Look at me."

"Morgana, what do I do?" he asked, his shaking voice no more than a whisper. "What's happening to me?" Arthur turned to stare at Morgana, his eyes swirling with fear, desolation, and most of all, an intense confusion. "It's just Merlin. But if it's just Merlin why am I so sad?"

She couldn't find the words. Until Merlin had arrived at Camelot, she and Arthur had been inseparable. Of course, they tormented each other to death but they complemented each other's natures so perfectly that almost nothing could come between their unbelievably strong friendship.

Until Merlin had showed up. Sure, Arthur and the gangly, awkward boy had been at the other's throats for the first few weeks, but as the years had passed that tentative truce had grown into a strong, sure bond that, although was sometimes seemingly nonexistent, was tested, tried and true. Morgana had felt a bit resentful at first that her dear childhood friend was starting to choose his servant's company over hers, but as Morgana and Merlin's relationship had blossomed into something beyond trust and they had learned the possibly deadly secret they both shared, she had grown to value Merlin's input just as much as Arthur's.

Morgana smiled gently. "I think you know exactly what you need to do. And don't tell me you don't, because if you can't see your path than you're even more of an idiot than before, and that's pretty hard to top. Merlin needs you. Go to him."

**A/N: Another Arthur chapter accomplished! I'm sorry if it seems like not much just happened, but I felt like it needed a bit of a bridge to reveal just how much Arthur needs Merlin back and what he's going through. I didn't explain that well. I needed a way to show why Arthur is going to do what he's going to do which I'm not going to say which would spoil it and also because I'm not entirely certain what it is that he's going to do yet and what Arthur is feeling and that was a really long and windy sentence.**

**Wow.**

**Until next time! As always, reviews are love! **


	6. Chapter 5

**Pre A/N A/N: If you don't want some kind of massive slightly confusing pointlessness just skip the real author's note.**

**A/N: I apologize in advance for this chapter in advance for if it needs apologizing for.**

**Did that make sense?**

**That totally made sense.**

**But honestly, I'm not happy with this chapter. I just needed a bit of a Merlin thing to get back to Arthur, because I've got some things for him that I'm pretty excited about including dreams and riddles and going in circles. But the circle thing — not yet. Not just yet. But you know what, screw all that. Whatever my feelings may be, I'm not going to give you any bad vibes. Which just rendered this whole author's note completely useless and redundant.**

***facepalm***

**Still, a thousand thanks to everyone who reads, favorites, reviews or follows!**

**I don't own Merlin, however much I wish I did.**

The third time Merlin woke up he wasn't in the dark little room any more. The feel of sunlight on his pale skin was a bit uncomfortable after spending who knows how long wherever it was that he had been. The pain that had surged through his body the previous times he had awoken was gone, diminished to nothing more than an incredibly annoying dull ache. With a few blinks, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, noting that there was still a sharp stab of pain in his ribs as he moved.

Yes, this was very different from the tiny room with no windows or doors or anything. He was on a soft bed under a soft, thin blanket in a large courtyard. It looked rather overgrown, to be honest, but it was in a nice way. Lining the edges of the reddish-cobblestone patio thing were exotic-looking trees with vibrant green leaves and bright purple fruits. Colorful flowers clustered around their roots opened their cheerful faces to the warm sunlight. It really was beautiful.

Normally Merlin would have been in awe in such a paradise as this, but the more he looked around, the more he was aware of an ache in his chest that went deeper than physical pain, an intense need and hunger for something that he couldn't place. Merlin frowned, and tried to brush away the emptiness, but the more he tried to ignore it the more it insisted upon being noticed.

Soft, graceful footsteps pulled Merlin away from his thoughts on what he desired. He turned around and suddenly the colors were clearer and the sun was warmer. He felt a strange sense of relief at the sight.

What sight?

The sight of Ilythien, of course.

She looked absolutely radiant, her shining auburn hair braided and her emerald green eyes shining. As opposed to the mossy green dress she'd been wearing the last few times Merlin had seen her, she was dressed in a simple, shimmery white dress that looked fit for an angel, and wrapped herself in a shawl made of lilac organza.

"Emrys," she greeted, a small smile lighting up her perfect features. "You're awake!"

Merlin blushed, unable to fathom exactly why he was so pleased that she was speaking to him. "Good morning, Ilythien," he replied in a small, shy voice.

Ilythien laughed, the joyous sound like music to Merlin's ears. "Oh, Emrys. It's not morning. Why, the sun will begin to set in just a little bit. How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice changing to one of concern.

He shrugged. "A lot better than before, and I suppose I have you to thank for it," Merlin replied, ducking his head to hide the scarlet spreading across his cheeks and ears. He looked up at Ilythien through his eyelashes. "How long was I out?" he asked slowly.

Ilythien giggled. "Four days. The first time you woke was one day after your fall, and it's been three days since you lapsed into unconsciousness the second time. I considered waking you earlier, but your condition was most unstable. You need sustenance, but you also need as much rest as you can get. Come! Let us go to the dining hall and eat. There is food prepared and waiting for you, if you wish to eat," she offered, taking Merlin's hand and helping him to his feet.

Merlin winced as he felt another stab of pain rush through his ribs, and a noticeable twinge when he put weight on his left ankle. Ilythien eyed Merlin with a worried glance. "You broke four ribs and sprained your ankle. I've sped up the healing as much as I dare, but anymore and the bones might set wrong," she explained.

With a grateful glance and the aid of his lovely host, Merlin made his slow way to a large stone hall with Spartan furnishings and a high, arched ceiling. Tall, strong pillars on either side supported it, and the only furniture was a long table with two chairs set at the end.

"I apologize," Ilythien began softly. "In times of old there were many of us, and these empty halls would be filled with laughter and magic. Now it is just me, and it is ever so lonely." She let out a regretful sigh. "So much was lost with the passing of my people." Her eyes looked unfocused, and Merlin felt a great rush of sadness in his bones for this poor, lost girl.

"It's okay," he reassured. "You're not alone anymore."

Ilythien looked up at him with light in her eyes. "I know. Thank you for being here, Emrys." Her green eyes were enveloped by the warm golden glow of magic, and a platter of fruit drifted lazily over from one of the side doors. "So," she began, taking the plate and gently placing it on the table. "Tell me about King Arthur."

Merlin met her kind, and yet challenging gaze with a bit of shock. "Arthur? But…" His voice trailed off. Somewhere in his hazy mind he still retained some shreds of the intense loyalty he felt to his king and friend. Arthur had never let him down before, and in spite of all of the times the king had been a total bastard, Merlin knew how much he owed Arthur.

"Come now, Emrys," Ilythien said, her smile as sweet as sugar, her voice enchanting and her eyes glinting dangerously. Merlin felt himself falling back into that lethargic fog once more, and this time he fought to cling onto the sense of self the thought of Arthur had brought back. But it was no use. "Emrys, it's been four days," she said, her voice soft and even. "He hasn't come for you, and you know that he won't. It's much safer here, and I would love to know about him."

A foolish grin crept onto Merlin's face. "Alright then. What do you want to know?" he asked, unable to push back the sense of devotion to Ilythien. His mind was somewhere far away from his reach. All that mattered was the voice of beautiful, kind, compassionate Ilythien and her sparkling green eyes and what she wanted.

She smiled. "Thank you. How do you get on with Arthur?" Ilythien could see from Merlin's eyes and his vacant expression that he would do anything she said. The warlock gazed at her with an adoring smile.

Merlin paused for a second. Somewhere, in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind he was fighting to reclaim his own consciousness, to break Ilythien's icy grip on his thoughts and his volition. Ilythien's smile widened and her eyes had an air of incredibly sincere care, more htan Arthur had ever shown him. "He's a prat," he confessed, the first words coming slowly, but the rest followed like a waterfall. "He's rude and insensitive and doesn't understand or appreciate anything I do for him. He doesn't even realize how much I do for him. He takes everything for granted and honestly sometimes it's all I can do to not just shout back at him once. I've given my life for Arthur, or, well, attempted to more than once and do I ever get so much as a thank you? No. Almost never. I can't remember how many times I've had to save his royal backside and he's never once realized it. Never so much as an afternoon off in return."

He paused, struggling to find the words to express his last thoughts. Merlin looked at Ilythien and her expectant, almost predatory smile and took a breath before beginning again. "But, Ilythien, I can't bring myself to hate him as much as I should. He's an awful master, he's arrogant and condescending and patronizing and sometimes he's just mean, but as much of a supercilious dollophead as he is, he's a good person. I spend all my time trying to look after him and I get no credit, but honestly I'm okay with it because I know that someday he will be a great king, and I have faith in him."

Merlin looked down at the table, picking at the grainy wood with his fingers. He could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks at revealing his true feelings concerning the young king he worked for. "What about you?" he asked, looking up and searching Ilythien's face for approval. "Can you tell me anything about you?"

Ilythien's gaze darkened almost in anger. "Me?" she replied, her voice layered with both a simpering sugary tone and a perilously dark one. "I could tell you everything, Emrys. And do you know what? I will. I will tell you exactly what I plan to do." She leaned closer, her green eyes glimmering with a dark almost-lust. "And I will, because I know that the best part I that you won't remember a thing."

He narrowed his eyes, sitting back in his chair. "But, Ilythien," Merlin protested. "What do you mean?"

She laughed, but it was almost more like a glorified cackle. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. Poor little Emrys, with no idea what's going on inside his foggy little head. You're just so pitiful." Ilythien blinked twice, her eyes clearing and returning to their normal, happy light and Merlin felt a rush of pleasure at seeing her smile once more.

**A/N:**

**Well then.**

**That didn't work out exactly as I had planned.**

**Meh.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's a bit longer than the others and not much happens in it. I'm trying to find a way to keep things going in both sides of the story, because at first I really wanted to keep the Merlin thing going but now I'm super stoked about Arthur so…**

**Anyhow, that's a wrap!**

**Do whatever you'd like but please do something. Reviews are love! **


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey everyone, and welcome back! I've switched from using random gibberish to actual Old English for my spells and stuff, but that's really the only change I've made as of now. We travel back from who-knows-where to Camelot, to deal with a king in a funk who's… Can't say, it'll ruin it. This is probably the last chapter Arthur will spend in Camelot before he starts to journey out in search of Merlin, but I'm not entirely sure how that will work out or who's going with him or maybe I'll combine the first thing I have tentatively planned with this chapter. Or maybe I won't. Who knows?**

**Thank you so soooooo sosososososo much for everyone who has been absolutely amazing enough to review, favorite or follow**

**I still don't own Merlin.**

Arthur slept fitfully that night. For hours he lay in the dark, his mind swimming with half-formed rescue plans and Morgana's words and blood-chilling thoughts of what Merlin might be going through right now. The ferocity of his determination to save his friend startled Arthur, and he lay in his bed, trying to clear his thoughts of Merlin and what he could do.

Eventually sleep came, but even sleep brought no release. As soon as his eyes closed Arthur could feel himself being pulled out of what he had hoped would be a relatively peaceful sleep into a world of dark nightmares. But it wasn't what he had thought it would be.

To be honest, Arthur had never expected to sleep well. Peace and quiet had been a far-off fantasy since the bandit attack the other day, and the loss of his best friend and ever-faithful servant.

But this was not what he had expected.

Arthur blinked his eyes open, his head throbbing painfully. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and for a few seconds he thought his eyes were still closed. All around him there was nothing but a stifling, suffocating darkness that seemed to sink down on him like a thick, black fog. He strained to see something, anything in the darkness, and caught a faint glimpse of a tiny figure clothed in white. He slowly climbed up into a standing position and clutched his head, trying to catch his breath from such a simple move.

The figure was closer now, a seemingly glowing silhouette of a girl in a white dress. Arthur could make out a face with unearthly beauty, but it was the face of someone who was no more than a girl. She had a pale face with green eyes that glowed in the darkness and sleek, reddish auburn hair that tumbled down past her shoulders.

At first she held Arthur's gaze captive with a sparkling smile, but her eyes darkened and grew fiercer until her beautiful face looked more like that of an animal than a young girl. "Arthur Pendragon," she sneered, her obviously lovely voice twisted with hatred and disgust. "I see you made it after all."

Arthur took a step back, surprised at her harsh, angry tones. "I—," he stammered. "Who are you?" The young king could hear his voice shaking as he spoke. This angry, beautiful girl from the depths of the darkness scared him, although he would never admit it.

She threw her head back and let out a laugh, the eerie sound echoing creepily among the crushing blackness. "Who am I?" she repeated, the delight at his puzzlement evident in her voice. She stared at Arthur, her gaze even and challenging. "Arthur Pendragon, you do not need to know that. What you need to know is what I have to tell you."

Arthur stared at her. "That made absolutely no sense," he commented slowly. "What do you want? Do you know where Merlin is?" he demanded, his tone of skepticism and slow disbelief turning to one of urgent excitement. He had seen a possibility, a big possibility.

She smiled. "Do I know where Merlin is." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. "I do. And perhaps I shall tell you." Her green eyes sparkled playfully and she cleared her throat before intoning in a singsong voice,

_"A place to withstand the claws of time_

_A citadel so strong and dark_

_The home of ancient Caelonites_

_To suck away the magic spark."_

Without meaning to, Arthur let out a groan. Great. Riddles. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, the pounding headache growing stronger as he tried to decipher the strange girl's words. What the hell was this Caelonite-thing? And what did she mean about a magic spark? Arthur's head swam with questions and feeble responses, but one thought stood out above all the rest. She knew where Merlin was. This infuriatingly condescending and annoyingly cryptic obviously sorcerous girl knew where Merlin was. But the only thing he could manage to say was, "Caelonite?"

Immediately he cursed himself for not having come up with something a bit cleverer. Here was this girl, tested him in what he assumed to be a game of wits to find his lost friend, and the only thing Arthur could reply was a single, stupid word.

She laughed again, this time no more than a maddening giggle. She looked back at Arthur again, and it seemed to the king that she now viewed him with an unfathomable, almost sympathetic gaze. "Perhaps I should give you a clue," she suggested, but it was more as if she was talking to herself.

_"In his quest to find his friend,_

_The hardest race the seeker ran_

_Tested both in mind and form_

_To find his aim where he began."_

Arthur could not even begin to comprehend the meaning of this new puzzle. He took a deep breath, attempting to gather his wits. "Find his aim where he began," he repeated quietly, but his thoughts were cut off by her soft, musical voice.

"No time to think, Arthur!" she sang. "I have a warning for you!" Arthur looked up at his visitor once again, expecting to see that irritating air of superiority in her eyes or an inexplicable smirk on her lips, but instead he was met with a surprisingly straightforward stare. Her face held no traces of laughter, there was no smile, teasing or insulting, in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked slowly, thrown off guard by her intense gaze. "I know all of the risks I might face in this search. But I have to go to Merlin. I can take it." He was more convincing himself than standing up to the girl, because deep inside himself Arthur was terrified. He was terrified because all he had to go on was a strange girl in a dream who spoke in riddles and laughed at him. He was terrified because he knew that there was every chance he could die, and he was terrified because there was every chance that Merlin was already dead.

"I know that," she said softly. "I know that I think you think you can take it. You believe you can." Her voice faltered for a moment, almost as if she was sorry for what she was about to say.

"_But beware, O foolish king._

_For though in the dark a light may gleam,_

_The secrets hid can do more than kill_

_And the truth is never as it seems."_

Her lilting voice was little more than a hesitant whisper. "I wish you the best of luck, Arthur Pendragon. I look forward to the consequences."

With a whirl of unseen and unfelt wind, she vanished, and the last Arthur saw of that girl for a long time was the shine of her bright green eyes.

~o0o~

The rising sun the next morning found Arthur wrapped in a blanket in Gaius' room, feverish and scared. The old physician stood at a table, mixing a vibrant cerulean concoction in a small glass. He turned around, handing the mixture to Arthur, who downed it without hesitation in one gulp.

Arthur wrinkled his nose at the horrid taste but shook it off. He had woken up from the dream with a headache that hurt something awful, the chills and a strong sense of paranoia. He hadn't felt that scared since he was a child, when he had nearly fallen off a cliff when out on a hunting trip. It was that feeling you get when you're all alone in the dark and you know that there's something out there, but you don't know what it is. It was the feeling that there was never going to be anyone there for him again. That nobody cared if you lived or died.

It had been the most awful experience of Arthur's life. He had never been truly alone before. There had always been someone there to stand by his side and help him get through the tough times, even though Arthur had never admitted how much having someone just there meant to him. But this, this feeling of complete isolation and utter terror, this was new. And it was not good.

Gaius' voice thankfully startled him out of the dreadful remnants of the feeling. "So what did she say?" he asked, his voice sharp with concern.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to stop his shaking hands. Even just thinking about the ominous riddles she had given him as 'clues' made his blood chill. But no. He had to. For Merlin. "A place," he began, his voice trembling. "A place to withstand the claws of time, a citadel so strong and dark. The home of ancient Caelonites to suck away the magic spark," he whispered.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up. Gaius' expression was guarded, but even that could not hide the fact that the old physician was surprised, even scared. "Caelonites?" Gaius asked, confirming he had heard Arthur right.

Arthur nodded, fearing the response he would get.

It was not good.

Gaius didn't respond at first, instead rushing over to one of his bookshelfs as fast as his old bones would let him. He pulled an old, dusty book swathed in cobwebs off the top shelf and flipped through it, his eyes growing darker with every passing second. Finally he stopped, staring at one page.

"What is it, Gaius?" Arthur asked, although he wasn't entirely certain he even wanted to know.

The older man looked at his king with a sad, serious gaze. "Caelonites, sire. They are creatures of sorcery from before the time of the Old Religion. They lived in an old castle called Caelon, but they went extinct hundreds of years ago. Legends say that Caelon itself has sorcerous powers embedded in its foundations. There is almost no way it can be a real Caelonite, but a sorcerer, however powerful, living in Caelon is not a good thing." He walked over to Arthur, still wrapped in his blanket in front of the table and handed him the book.

Arthur didn't even look at it for a few moments, trying to comprehend what Gaius had just said. Creatures from _before_ the Old Religion? A castle with sorcerous powers? The very thought made him want to go and hide in a closet. Arthur prided himself on not showing fear in the face of almost anything, but he had never been able to understand magic or its users, and now Merlin was in the clutches of something who's mere name sounded sinister. Steeling himself for what he expected would be pictures of walls eating people and vines growing out of the floor and ceiling like tentacles waiting for a victim to tear apart, he glanced down at the page.

It was none of that. In curly script there was a word, Caelon, and a minimalist illustration of a dark, gloomy castle with spiraling towers and black flags. It was perched precariously on an outcropping of rock, half of it hanging off the edge. Just looking at the drawing made Arthur feel like there was no hope.

"Is there anything else that she said?" Arthur looked up, tearing his eyes away from the picture at the sound of Gaius' voice.

Arthur nodded, deciding to keep the third riddle to himself. "There was one more. About what I should do. In his quest to find his friend, the hardest race the seeker ran. Tested both in mind and form to find his aim where he began," he recited.

Gaius frowned. "It sounds pretty straightforward to me, sire. You must choose the hardest path and you will be tested," he suggested, turning back to his medicine table and reaching for a bottle of viridescent liquid and a small vial of tawny leaves.

The king sighed. "I suppose so," he conceded.

Gaius crushed a few of the leaves and sprinkled the powder into the greenish liquid, watching as the mixture turned to an sickly yellow color. He handed the bottle to Arthur. "Take three drops twice a day to keep the fever down and you should be fine," he instructed, turning from an advisor and worried friend back into a physician.

Arthur nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Gaius," he said, forcing a small smile onto his uncooperative face as he stood and handed the blanket back. "I promise you I'll get Merlin back."

Gaius nodded, but he looked a bit skeptical. "Thank you, sire."

Pocketing the bottle, Arthur strode out the door. His legs still felt a bit wobbly, but at least he could stand on his own now. He had had to half crawl to Gaius' chambers. On the way back to his own rooms, Arthur considered his options once more. Of course, he knew there was only one path open to him. He would have to go after Merlin. There was no question about it; he had promised himself, Morgana and his lost servant. It wasn't as if he would have ever chosen anything different either. Merlin had always been there for him, had always been the truest friend he'd ever been despite his amazing incompetence, insolence and strange habit of spending too much time in the tavern, and Arthur knew that Merlin would come after him if the roles were reversed.

It had been decided from the minute Merlin had been captured.

There was no way Arthur wasn't coming after him.

Arthur just hoped Merlin knew.

**A/N: Turns out I didn't incorporate the first test. That turned out a lot longer than I had planned, but oh well! I've plenty to say. I must say that I apologize if you feel this story doesn't have enough action for you or anything like that. I don't have it planned out, but I do believe that I know that this won't be a story with a particularly great amount of fighting or brave heroics of a physical nature besides one I have planned. It's more mind games, if you've figured that out by now.**

**Thank you a thousand times over to everyone who has done anything in regards to my very first story. You make me smile. Seriously. I was checking my email in social studies and it took everything I had not to squeal with delight or something. You guys are amazing.**

**If it's taking me a long time to upload chapters, I apologize. My internet's acting really screwy right now, so I'm trying to find a way to get around that.**

**Until next time, my lovelies! As always, reviews are love! As is anything else, I should add. **


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I lied!**

**My internet's not acting screwy, my computer's acting screwy. Just had to restart it and everything's happy now. So sorry if I misled you with that little thing, didn't mean to. I fail at technology, so then… yeah…**

**But I'm back again and we are all flying back to wherever it is that Merlin is. And let's start… I don't know. That sentence got away from me. Merlin is… I can't say that. It'll spoil things for all of you amazing people. **

**Speaking of you amazing people, you guys are glorious. Absolutely glorious. Thankees to all for everyone who's done anything!**

**Still don't own Merlin.**

Merlin woke up with the image of Ilythien's narrowed eyes imprinted on his brain, a massive headache and a startling fear. He looked around, trying to find out where he was. Every movement sent a jarring stab of pain searing through his head, and he collapsed back onto the floor.

It was dark where he was, and Merlin had a sinking feeling that he was back in that airless, dark, enclosed room. But where he was wasn't exactly his main problem right now.

No, what bothered him right now was Ilythien.

Ilythien.

Merlin could barely begin to comprehend the utter despair that now threatened to devour his heart at the betrayal of this enchanting girl who he would've sworn held nothing but pure goodness in her heart.

But that wasn't the case. That was terrifyingly far from the truth concerning his mysterious host, and what he presumed to be now his captor. The shock froze his mind and addled his thoughts. Looking back on it, Merlin couldn't grasp why he had ever trusted Ilythien in the first place. She had just seemed like the kind of person you would always be able to trust. The way she talked, her compassionate smile, the gentle manner in which she walked. She had been so kind to him.

And she had turned on him. Some time, while he had been unconscious and recovering from the grievous injuries (which, to be honest, had been her fault in the first place), she must have cast some spell on him. But then again… Over the years Merlin had become more than accustomed to the feel of magic in the air. There was none of that, none of the magical electricity tingling in the air, not a trace of the lethargic fog that would have infected his mind had she used some kind of mental spell.

Unless, of course, it was just her magic. There was an ethereal, not quite human nature to Ilythien. And she had said that she wasn't human. She had said it, and Merlin cursed himself for not being on his guard. She had told him flat out that she was a creature of sorcery and magic, and Merlin hadn't blinked an eye as he had put his life in her hands, willingly and unwillingly.

And now Merlin was fighting a losing battle. And he knew it. He could already feel his mind fighting back, trying to let itself fall back into that lovely pit of oblivion and easy submission. Although he was certain about the fact that he was alone in the dark, solid room, he could see her glimmering green eyes and her beguiling smile, but most of all, he could hear her lilting voice, echoing softly but firmly throughout his addled mind.

Merlin needed something, a thought, an image, a memory, anything to keep him at this precariously lucid state of mind. The first image that flew into his head was not Arthur, not Arthur by a long shot. Looking back, Merlin would attribute that to some mind tricks by Ilythien, but no.

The person, the memory that he chose was a pale-skinned, dark-haired, frightened young Druid girl, wet from a gentle rain and dressed in a beautiful dark red gown. She lay in a boat, surrounded by vibrant green leaves with her eyes closed and her chest not moving. No breath escaped her lips.

Just thinking of the poor lost soul formed a lump in Merlin's throat, and he blinked back the tears. In his mind the piercing blow of the loss of Freya had dulled, but although he refused to admit, even after almost five years, that in his heart no more than the thought of his dead love brought both a terrible sadness and grief as well as a fiery rage at Arthur for what he had done.

Merlin knew that his feelings concerning Freya didn't matter. Arthur wasn't to be blamed for what had happened to the girl. He had just been doing his duty as prince and knight. Merlin had told himself this a thousand times, but it just. Didn't. Help.

Still, as grievous as the feelings were, they sent a great sweeping wind through the hazy fog that clouded his mind. Merlin let out a gasp as he felt a prickle of clarity spike up through his systems. His vision was sharper and his fingers and toes tingled with a heightened sense of feeling. It was as if he was waking up from a long sleep, and opening his eyes to a new world, a world of brighter color and sharper focus.

He grinned slightly, keeping the crystal clear image of dead Freya in his mind. With this new, sharper thought process it suddenly seemed a bit macabre, with the thought of a dead girl keeping him sane. Merlin shrugged it off.

But there was something else bothering him as well, a little nagging whisper at the back of his mind. He knew it, knew that there was something absolutely vital gone from his mind. It was just there, just beyond the reach of the young warlock, as if there was something forcibly blocking it. Merlin swore under his breath. It had to be Ilythien. There was something, something so important, something he needed to remember, something he needed to do, and she wanted to keep him from it.

It was strange, this missing part. Merlin could feel its absence like a gaping hole in his soul, but he just couldn't name it. He promised himself he'd think about it later. Right now he had to focus on getting out of this hellhole. _"Leoht," _he muttered, his hand held out in front of him.

Nothing happened.

Merlin's gaze darkened in confusion. "_Leoht,"_ he repeated, more forcefully.

Nothing.

Not so much as a spark, let alone a real light. Merlin let out a sigh, trying to keep his nerves calm and his mind from panicking. "_Leoht," _he nearly shouted, distraught at the loss of this monumental part of his being.

It was like nothing he had ever felt before, this being separated from his magic. Over all the years, even though he had always hidden his talents, Merlin had never been alone. Maybe at some points there had been no one to stand by his side, but as long as he had his magic he knew that there would always be hope, always a light in the dark at the end of the tunnel. Magic was Merlin, and Merlin was magic, and never before had Merlin had to face a situation where he found himself well and truly alone, trapped in an unfamiliar place with a tenuous grip on his mind and an obviously powerful sorceress out there.

Merlin felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, like someone had shoved a brick down his throat and now it was pulling him down. For a moment he felt a wave of utter despair crashing down on him, taking away his breath, his hope and his heart and leaving him alone to face the crushing darkness that had always awaited him just outside the safe, cozy realm of his magic and his friends. Everything he held on to, every tiny shred of faith vanished, and Merlin couldn't find the strength to stand anymore.

He crumpled to the ground, his eyes sliding closed in defeat. Merlin had faced hundreds of seemingly hopeless situations, but for the first time, stuck in a stone room with no windows, doors and cut off from his magic, he felt himself giving up.

But something wouldn't let him. Something, locked away deep inside his soul, there was a tiny voice, calling out to him. It was insistent, doing its best to worm its way into Merlin's mind and bring him back from the edge of this precarious pit he stood on the edge of. The presence of it startled Merlin, and he paused for a moment, opening his mind and letting everything wash over him.

He didn't know exactly what it was that led him to do so, but when he did, it was like the world had reappeared. There was a dark wall, both literal and metaphorical, blocking him off from the light, but he could feel the light, feel everything that was cut off from him. Merlin could sense an intense longing in his heart, a pull that refused to be ignored, calling him back to that which he loved and those who loved him.

Suddenly Merlin could see their faces. Freya, dark and pale and beautiful. Gwen, gazing at him with bright brown eyes and an easy smile. Lancelot, tall and noble, a slight smile showing. Gwaine, laughing merrily, his eyes twinkling and his smile wide, although Merlin couldn't quite tell if it was because he was happy or because he was drunk.

And something else, something very important, but obstructed by something entirely different. Merlin frowned, trying to remember what he was forgetting. He knew it was important, but it was just beyond his reach. It felt like he was thinking about it, but he couldn't bring a picture of what it was to mind.

Merlin brushed it away, ignoring the nagging feeling he got from not trying anymore. Hope restored, he held his palm out. _"Leoht."_ It was barely anything. It wasn't any brighter than a candle near the end of its life.

But it was something.

And then it was nothing.

It was gone as quickly as it had come, as if snuffed by some great invisible hand.

But it had been something.

Merlin took a breath and faced the wall, focusing his strength and narrowing his eyes. "_Berstan staenen weall_," he whispered, his blue eyes flooded with a clear gold. He could feel the magic trembling in his fingertips, trying to get free, and with a burst of bright light, the stones crumbled into dust.

It took more out of the young warlock than such a simple spell ever should. He was left gasping for breath like a fish out of water, every ounce of power drained from his body. It puzzled Merlin. Nothing had ever been able to block his magic like that, and it wasn't even like the magic was blocked. It wasn't there. There was no rush of suppressed power, fighting to break free of some magical barrier keeping it locked away in a dark corner of his mind. It was like there had never been any magic there. Merlin reached and reached for it, but try as he might there was just no magic. No magic at all.

With a shudder, he stumbled through the ruins of the wall out into the bright lights of a dimly lit hall. Dank and gloomy as it might have been, the lights came as a shock to Merlin, who had grown accustomed to the soft darkness of the stone room. He squinted, looking to the left and the right. It was just a long hallway, lined with torches and smelling of the damp and metal.

No…

That wasn't metal. Bile rose in Merlin's throat and he retched as the stench registered as blood, thick and pungent in the air. He leaned against the wall for support, attempting to recover from the sickly smell of blood. It was heavy in the air, and he pulled his hand away from the well. It was damp and sticky, and he looked at it before retching again.

His hand was stained crimson, and as Merlin studied the walls it became more and more evident that in the dim light they were soaked with blood. Shades of bright red coated the once-grayish green stone walls, some brownish and dry, but trickles of scarlet liquid trickled down the walls.

Merlin shuddered and blinked his eyes twice, steeling his nerves for what he knew would be a long and quite possibly dreadful escape attempt.

**A/N: That took a long time. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get up this chapter, but it didn't turn out quite the way I expected. I expected to get through with the whole thing this chapter, and instead I had a little emotional outbursts and some very bloody walls.**

…

**Oh well.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, if you read it you're awesome, if you do anything I love you for real.**

**Until next time, my lovelies! **


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hola mi amigos!**

**Ooh, Spanish.**

**So this is a new chapter, and I'm not entirely certain what to say about it because to be totally honest I feel like my new character is a bit way too unconventional and improper for this time period. I apologize for any OOCness, both here and in any past chapters, because I realize I've probably forgot to say that a lot.**

**I don't own Merlin.**

**I'm listening to Fun. right now. Some Nights. You know, I love this band, but this song just makes absolutely no sense to me. Just had to get that out there.**

The first problem was deciding which way to go.

Gwaine thought they should jump right into the jaws of danger and journey east, through Cenred's bandit and mercenary-infested lands. Needless to say, Lancelot, Leon and Arthur all thought this was incredibly stupid.

Lancelot and Leon agreed that they should go back to the site of the attack and attempt to track Merlin to the site of his capture, and from there track his captors to the mysterious citadel of Caelon. All four of the men in the rescue party acknowledged that this was by far the most logical suggestion, but Arthur couldn't shake the nagging feeling out of his head that this was just too easy. His visitor had made it cryptically clear that he had to choose the hardest path, and tracking wasn't very hard.

But it was all that they had to go on, so Arthur agreed, promising in his mind that as soon as he had a choice between two paths he would choose the harder one. They set out before dawn the next day, with a fierce, determined fire in their hearts. Arthur rode in the front, dark circles under his eyes and blonde hair messy. He hadn't been able to sleep at all that night, even with the help of one of Gaius' sleeping drafts.

His mind swam with the pressure put on him. All of his advisors were more displeased than usual with him running off to save Merlin yet again, and the fact that they all knew he was chasing after a sorceress living in a magical castle did nothing to improve the atmosphere in Camelot. Gwen was worried sick, and it almost seemed as if she honestly didn't know whether or not Arthur should go after Merlin. The servant had been one of her best friends since the day he had arrived in Camelot, but Arthur was… Arthur.

As a result, the king was torn. Part of him knew he should be staying, ruling Camelot like he was meant to, but the part of him that was much more loud and annoying in his head insisted that he save Merlin.

And honestly, Arthur couldn't blame himself. For the longest time he had grown up alone but never lonely, surrounded by people and yet still isolated, without any real friends until Morgana had shown up. But even that hadn't lasted, for Morgana, knowingly or unknowingly, had come to value Gwen's companionship a lot more than Arthur's. Sure, they were still close, but that intense bond forged by coming together in times of grief and disappear wasn't quite the same anymore.

Arthur had been left alone again, until that idiot had shown up. Merlin. There was no denying the fact that Merlin was rude, useless, incompetent and an all around idiot, but he was, and had been, the best friend Arthur had ever had from the moment they were assigned to each other. It had taken both of them a long time to realize how much they needed the other, but that easy companionship between them, Arthur's unceasing exasperation and Merlin's irritatingly lovable insolence, that was something that they had both been missing for a long time in their lives, and something they had found with each other.

Both men were more than aware of how amazingly inappropriate their relationship was. But neither of them cared. Sometimes it seemed to Arthur as if there was something beyond either of their control that had brought them together, because from the start it had seemed like Merlin had been much more than a servant. The rare times when he actually seemed wise were a startling insight into what went on in his servant's mind, and they gave Arthur the eerie feeling that their entire relationship had a great deal to do with this goddamn destiny that Merlin was always going on about.

Leon's voice cut through Arthur's troubled thoughts. "Sire!" he called, a scrap of blue cloth in his hand. "Sire, they must have gone this way. It's Merlin's."

Arthur dismounted and strode across the clearing to where Leon stood. He took the cloth in his hand, his resolve hardening. "Gwaine! Lancelot! This way," he ordered, setting off.

From there things just got easier. And that was the most disturbing part. He hadn't shared the riddles with any of his nights, but Arthur knew that the whole point of this quest was to test him, to test who he was and how strong he was and how far he was willing to go. But there was no denying that Merlin had gone this way, and as uncomfortable as it was, Arthur wasn't going to let a good solid lead go to try and compensate for an obscure riddle given to him by a weird girl in a dream.

In fact, it even seemed to be going quite well until they reached a dead end.

It wasn't so much of an end, more of an abrupt 50-foot ravine. Arthur's heart leapt into his mouth as he gazed down over the edge. The bottom was swathed in an thin layer of fog, but even so it was clear that there were no bodies down there, Merlin's or otherwise. He gazed down the steep sides, picking out a path before clearing his mind and climbing down.

"Sire!"

It was Leon's voice again, pinched with worry. "Sire, you shouldn't do that," he chided, his voice sharp.

Arthur shook his head. No, he wouldn't let it get away. The others believed that they had reached a dead end, but Arthur saw it as something different. He saw it as an opening, a chance to finally delve into the quest he had undertaken. "It's fine, Leon," he called back, hoping that his voice didn't betray the nervous excitement that rattled his bones and made his legs feel like jelly with every step closer to the bottom of the ravine.

The same nervous excitement that made his heart weaken at the stains of blood on the ground, washed out, but still clearly visible. Smears of crimson, wiped across the muddy rocks. Arthur could picture it in his head, Merlin's broken body lying at an awkward angle on the bottom of the ravine, his head gushing blood and his neck snapped, his whole essence whisked away with a fall that couldn't have been more than ten seconds and a sickening _thud._

The image took Arthur's breath away, and gasped for a second, shocked at the vehemence of his reaction. He knew that he and Merlin had always been close, but this… The thought of Merlin being actually, truly dead… The horror and the boiling anger in his soul, that almost scared Arthur. It made him want to tear something apart, the knowledge that there would be bandits and sorcerers evil enough to do this to someone as trusting, loyal, innocent and unfailingly good as Merlin.

But the nightmarish vision that had consumed Arthur's mind for a moment was not real. There was no broken body lying on the rocks, only a few faint splashes of blood.

Merlin had been moved, taken away. Of course, Arthur already knew this fact. He had been told in no uncertain terms exactly where Merlin was, and that he was alive, but that gave him no reassurance. All of the evidence pointed to the idea that although Merlin was alive, he was dying and injured.

And Arthur couldn't let that happen.

He had tried for a long time to believe that Merlin meant nothing to him, but now that he faced the very real possibility that he would never see his ever-faithful servant again, the feelings would not be ignored. Arthur was always stressed enough as it was, and Merlin's arrival had meant the beginning of a friendship that went much deeper than a normal friendship, and defied basically every traditional boundary.

He couldn't abandon Merlin now.

It didn't matter if he was already dead.

He wouldn't leave Merlin in whatever awful, twisted place he was in.

A voice startled him from his thoughts, and his consuming rage concerning the lost servant.

"Arthur Pendragon."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and the voice that said it was sultry and silky, and it made Arthur want to drop to his knees and start worshipping the ground its owner walked on. He turned around slowly, uncertain of what to expect.

It was a woman, tall and beautiful. She had hair the color of the night, a deep, rich black that shimmered with blue in the light of the day. Her eyes were the same, pools of darkness and wisdom that reflected unseen stars, seeing more than everyone. She seemed to radiate a fierce, violently compassionate golden light, and the fog gathered around them as she walked towards him.

"Arthur Pendragon," she repeated. "I have a test for you."

Arthur struggled to form a reasonably logical response in his mind, but nothing was coming. She smiled slightly. "I apologize." Her eyes blinked, and suddenly the world seemed to right itself. She was just a woman, a beautiful one, no doubt, but nothing more. "The residual magic of my mistress needs controlling at times."

The king considered this piece of information. The residual magic of her mistress. The puzzle pieces slid into place inside his head, and he smiled. This was what he had been waiting for, the tests prophesied by the dream-girl. "Very well then. What of this test?" Arthur's voice was much more eager than he had intended it to be, and he could feel the excitement bubbling up inside him.

She smiled. "My name is Rhiann. My mistress has instructed me to give you three tests, one a test of loyalty, one a test of mental strength, and the last a test of physical strength. Do you accept the challenges put before him?" The woman's voice changed to a very brisk, businesslike tone.

Arthur nodded confidently. "Of course I do. When I complete the third test, I will get Merlin back, right?" he asked, attempting to confirm it.

Rhiann hesitated. "No. The tests will grant you entry into the place where your friend is held. You must find the place and rescue him yourself," she countered, her voice thick with apologies. "I am sorry, but I can do nothing to change my mistress' decision." She gazed at Arthur with those deep black eyes. "Shall we continue?"

The news did nothing more than annoy Arthur. No amount of challenges or tests could discourage him from his goal, but there was always something, something keeping him one step away from Merlin. He nodded, his eyes dark and his expression grim. It didn't matter. Whatever it took, he would get back to Merlin.

He had promised.

"Very well. In accepting the challenges put before you, you enter into a covenant with my mistress. The terms are stated as following: You will not attempt to back away from the challenges, no matter what you may feel. Any attempts to do so will result in the immediate loss of your friend," Rhiann began.

Arthur noted how she said loss, not death. He wondered what it meant.

"Attempting to take advantage or cheat on any of the tests will have the same consequences. Do you accept these terms?" Rhiann asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

There was nothing else he could. The choice had always been made for him. Just thinking of letting Merlin down made Arthur want to crawl in a hole and die, to never have to face the light of day and the truth that he had abandoned the first true friend he had ever had. Of course he accepted. No matter what the consequences were, Merlin had always been there for Arthur. When every other light in his life had been snuffed out by some cruel trick of fate, Merlin had been there. Always there, ever faithful. Although it pained Arthur to admit it, Merlin was his rock, his confidant, his most trusted advisor. The king couldn't count the times his friend had warned him against something, been scorned for his attempts to aid Arthur and turned out to be right.

But no more.

No more.

This time would be different.

Arthur would be there for him. Arthur would be the light in the dark, he would repay some of the irreplaceable kindnesses that Merlin had always given to him without ever asking for anything in return.

It was time to be the friend that Merlin had always been for him.

"Of course," Arthur consented, his throat dry and his voice raspy. "Of course I do." He shot a cautious glance up at the top of the ravine. "But what of the knights?"

Rhiann smiled. "My mistress' magic is very powerful. All of Albion is held in a stasis while you attempt the tests," she explained, practically radiating pride for her mysterious mistress. "Shall we begin?"

Arthur swallowed his pride and his fear. For Merlin, he reminded himself. He nodded, trying desperately to push down the rising sense of panic in his throat. He had to be strong, he needed to be strong, how could he do anything if this scared him half to death?

"Very well. This first test is a test of loyalty and knowledge, and it will entail a few questions. Answer them truthfully, Arthur Pendragon, and to the best of your ability," Rhiann instructed, her eyes glinting with anticipation. "The first question is, do you know Merlin?"

The question took Arthur by surprise. Truthfully, he had been expecting a game of wit and smarts, and this question had him drawing a blank. After a moment of silent astonishment, a painful anger began to boil up inside of him. How dare this impudent sorceress think he didn't know Merlin! The servant was the best friend Arthur had, and Arthur knew absolutely everything about Merlin. There was nothing he didn't kno—

Arthur's angry thoughts faltered. Did he know Merlin? They spent almost all their time together, but did he actually know his friend? There was no way of getting around the fact that Merlin knew Arthur better than Arthur knew himself, but Arthur…

Arthur didn't know Merlin.

At least not as well as he believed he did. The foolish servant had put the king's life ahead of his own so many times, but at the end of the day Arthur had absolutely no idea what Merlin's life was like outside of Arthur. He didn't even know if the boy had a life outside of his work. Arthur shared everything with Merlin, and he felt a slight pang of regret that he had never tried to get Merlin to reciprocate, to attempt to know his best friend as well as said friend knew him.

There was nothing for him to say except the truth. Arthur would love to be able to say that he knew Merlin inside out, that there were things that never needed saying because of the bond that they shared. And it was true, they did share a bond, but despite their strong relationship there was nothing truly personal about Merlin that Arthur knew.

"No."

That one word held so much force behind it, so much anger and regret and such a deep, burning sadness and disappointment with himself that Arthur had never so much as attempted to get to know Merlin a bit better.

Rhiann smiled, and even without the bewitching, magnetic glow that she had called the residual magic of her mistress, the misty ravine seemed to light up. "You told the truth, Arthur Pendragon. I did not expect that from you." She paused, studying him with a piercing gaze that made Arthur feel very uncomfortable. "There is one more question I must ask you, and this one, you must answer truthfully, to the best of your ability. I may not be able to discern the truth from the lies as they might be very similar in this case, but be warned, Arthur Pendragon, my mistress knows all." The whole world seemed to hold its breath as she hesitated again.

"How far are you willing to go?"

**A/N:**

…

**Blargh.**

**Alsuehvlkhkrhkrmaljvhr in my opinion that could have gone quite a bit better. I know I said it at the beginning but Rhiann is just…**

**I can't figure out a way to get her to do this while still being cryptic but friendly and she's the enemy but Arthur just thinks she's the kind of person to be trusted and she's being all mysterious concerning her mistress (who I'm pretty sure you know who it is) and I just can't get my mind to work in a way that fits the enigmatic air of the situation surrounding Rhiann and her mistress and this whole test business and Arthur's thoughts and it's making me really frustrated.**

**Because in my mind it's just not coming out right.**

**Reviews, positive and negatory (negatory?), are love, as is anything else.**

**Until next time, my lovelies! **


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:**

…

…

**Hi.**

**So… Sorry people. It's been a while, hasn't it? Honestly, I apologize a lot for taking so long with this next update, but it's Christmastime and I've been having a life for once (gasp!) and I'm currently obsessing my way through the first three seasons of Supernatural in a desperate attempt to get to my beloved Castiel because I must must **_**must**_** go in order without skipping any episodes and I'm falling head over heels in fangirl love with Sammy and Dean.**

**I know it shouldn't count as an excuse but come on, people.**

**Plus there's the bit about the part that I can barely come up with any ideas for this new Merlin segment and it's just SO FRUSTRATING!**

**So anyways here we go!**

Merlin didn't know how long he had been walking. The hallway was just as dark and gloomy, and the stench of blood just grew stronger and stronger, sinking into his sinuses and filling his dry mouth with the metallic taste. With every step the sinking pit of fear in his stomach grew deeper and wider, threatening to consume every fiber of his being.

But he kept pressing on, keeping the image of that beautiful dark-haired Freya in his mind and forcing back the undeniable feeling that invaded his thoughts.

As well as the same nagging thought that he was forgetting something very important.

Something beyond important.

And something that was far beyond his reach.

The tunnel was getting darker, and the blood was getting thicker, dripping from the ceiling with sick plopping noises. Bile rose in the young warlock's throat, but he choked it down and reached for the umpteenth time for his magic.

There was still nothing there, not a trace of magic, not even the faintest echo. There had been times when Merlin hadn't been able to use his magic, but never, not once had he been unable to feel its bubbling, boiling power writhing inside of him, aching to be let loose on the world. This cavity in his soul filled him with a soul-sucking sense of desperation.

And yet he couldn't let himself let go. Some small spark of insane light fighting away deep in the dark whirlpool his life seemed to have become refused to let him simply give up.

The sound of footsteps startled Merlin from his thoughts, and with a confused expression he realized that these thoughts seemed to happen a lot. He turned towards the source of the footsteps, terror rising up from his stomach. He already knew who it was. Who else would want to be in this stupid hellhole? Forcing down the feelings clawing at his resolve, Merlin turned on his heel and began to run, his heart pounding in his ears with each frantic foot. One, after another, after another. Just keep going.

But it was no use. He knew deep within him, or maybe not so deep, that there was no way he could ever escape the wrathful sorceress on his tail. Maybe if he gave in she would show mercy…

But again, he knew that the thought was no more than the desperate, foolish hope of a man who knew he was condemned. What reason would she have to spare the miserable excuse his life had begun? What could he possibly be to her now without his powers or his magic or any scrap of hope or fight left?

And besides, Merlin was tired. Tired of a truthfully very depressing life of keeping secrets and hiding in the shadows and keeping himself tucked away in a deep, dark corner of himself where there was no light, just an endless, crushing darkness. Tired of watching day after day go by in a meaningless existence. Maybe if she killed him it would be better. Maybe it would give him an ounce of relief and freedom after living in a world that wanted to kill him for being alive, for just existing.

Merlin's footsteps slowed to a halt, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and turning around. "Here I am!" he shouted, trying to sound like he at least wanted to survive a little longer. "Come and get me!"

Ilythien's footsteps echoed ominously in the bloody hallways, and Merlin slumped against the wall, not caring about the crimson liquid staining his skin and clothes and for a few seconds, just wanting to return to that blissful place where the Caelonite's words were the only thing that mattered or made any sense.

Disgusted with himself, Merlin shoved the thoughts out of his mind, but it was already a little too late to try fighting against the sorceress' magic, which battered the walls around his mind, threatening to break them down and destroy everything within, pick apart his thoughts like one of Gaius' experiments and leave him a shivering, drooling mess.

There was no hope. For once, there wasn't a single tiny star glittering in the darkness to show him the way, no friendly, encouraging voice to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Every time he'd stupidly ended up in one of these situations there had always been something, someone there, who trusted and believed in him, that one ray of sunshine that kept him going. Merlin knew that much. But now it was gone. He couldn't even remember what it had been.

_"Emrys!"_

A soft whisper echoed down the bloody corridor, beckoning to him. Merlin felt his body make to move towards it, but he steeled his mind. No, he told himself. She would not get the satisfaction of having him come to her.

She would have to come to him.

_"Emrys!"_

But it was so hard to resist that beguiling call. It resonated in his mind as well, pounding and pounding, insistent and slightly irritated. The footsteps were louder now, louder than they should be for a seemingly delicate girl.

It took everything in him for Merlin to not just give in and fling himself at the ground before her feet, to apologize for everything and offer up his soul. It took everything for him to just remain on his own two feet, to not slide down to collapse on the ground in utter defeat and submission.

_"EMRYS!"_

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as the angry voice drilled into his brain, like someone was cutting his head open with a blunt knife. His mental defenses shattered and he gasped, his blue eyes flying open as he sank to the ground, struggling to breathe. Already he could feel the sweet, sweet poison of Ilythien's intoxicating aura infecting his thoughts, warping the way he saw things.

His hands grasped blindly at the wall, searching for purchase to pull himself up and run towards the beautiful sorceress. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have ever thought that she would want to hurt him? Ilythien had been nothing but kind to him, healing his wounds and giving him shelter, and in return he had scorned her hospitality and tried to leave, when in truth the warlock knew that she had just been keeping him in the dark stone room because he wasn't well enough to go about on his own. Merlin had been stupid and selfish and rude for thinking otherwise, and he waited gladly for the chance to beg for forgiveness from Ilythien.

_"__Ā__hebban bregdan!"_ The soft spell caught Merlin by surprise, and he fought back another wave of fear as he felt himself being slowly lifted up, his feet kicking wildly as they left the ground. With a sickening _crack!_, he hurled across the tunnel, his head colliding solidly with the wall and adding a bit more blood to the already thick coating.

Ilythien strode towards him, her white gown stained with blood as it dragged across the floor. "You poor idiot!" she sighed in mock exasperation, but her eyes glinted with hateful amusement as she glared at the unconscious figure huddled on the ground. "I lied. Of course I did. But why on earth should that mean that you get to escape? Trust me, Emrys." She laughed cruelly. "You will never leave. Not that you were ever going to anyways."

**A/N: Well that was interesting! I wasn't sure how it was going to pan out, had some vague notions of a giant mud-monster but that was a bit out there. Not sure exactly how I feel about this chapter, but at least I've gotten something done.**

**In the A/N at the top I mentioned I was going through the first three seasons of Supernatual.**

**Well…**

**Sorry about this.**

**But in the time it's taken me to write this I have now found myself in the middle of season 7 and quite desperately missing my little dead angel Castiel who is, well, you know… Gone.**

**Thankees for reading, you are all amazing!**

**Until next time, my lovelies!**

**Oh, by the way, I was watching the premiere of Merlin in the US. My happy dance was epic when Mordred came back. And very, very tiring.**

**And the whole stuff with the reuploading chapters and then deleting them? That was me very very confused because I thought I had two chapters that I hadn't uploaded but I actually had so... Sorry about that!**

**Until next time for real, my lovelies!**


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